


the things that i need (are right here by my side)

by oneshinyapple



Series: Like Gravity [3]
Category: Fantastic Four (Comicverse), Marvel (Comics), Spider-Man (Comicverse)
Genre: "newly established" relationship, But Mostly Smut, Coming Out, Established Relationship, Face-Fucking, Fluff and Smut, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Not sure if they count as "established" either, tiny smidge of plot in there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-08-05 06:20:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16362512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneshinyapple/pseuds/oneshinyapple
Summary: Peter and Johnny are together (finally) and Johnny just wants to let everyone know about it. Peter’s fine with it (mostly). Now if only these alien dinosaurs would stop attacking.+///+“We should tell our families. About you and me.”Peter blinked at him. “What’s the rush? We’ve been together, like, four days?”“Five.” Johnny frowned.“Four.”“You’re getting our potential anniversary wrong less than a week into our relationship. You’re the worst boyfriend ever.”(A/N: Direct sequel/interquel to "the things that you want")





	the things that i need (are right here by my side)

**Author's Note:**

> This is a direct sequel/interquel (it overlaps with the last section) of "the things that you want", which is now part of a series (Stay With Me) which in turn has been placed into a larger series (Like Gravity). More about this in the end notes. Fic premise is from a suggestion from the comments of the first part (left by user Dionysus742), though I don't think this was quite what they had in mind. There's a bit of plot, but it's mostly Johnny and Peter being the absolute worst boyfriends. The kind you wouldn't want to invite to your house because they _will_ have sex on your couch.

“We should tell them,” Johnny said one movie night, leaning back against his headboard with his eyes on the back of Peter’s head.

Peter, his head pillowed on Johnny’s stomach as he paid attention to the movie (Gremlins) for once, gave a start. He rolled onto his back on the bed, where he was lying crosswise, so he could look at Johnny. “What?”

Johnny gave him a rare serious look. “We should tell our families. About you and me.”

Peter blinked at him then rolled onto his side again, this time putting his back to the TV. His hair tickled Johnny’s bare skin. “What’s the rush? We’ve been together, like, four days?”

“Five.” Johnny frowned.

“Four.”

“You’re getting our potential anniversary wrong less than a week into our relationship. You’re the worst boyfriend _ever_.”

“You think we can last a whole year?”

Johnny crossed his arms and glowered down at him. “Not at this rate.”

Peter sighed and rolled onto his face. “It’s four days because it was technically after midnight, after round three, when you and I agreed that this was going to be a thing beyond just, you know, sex.”

“I _thought_ that was implied even before round one began. Are you telling me we weren’t on the same page when I was letting you sticky finger my dick?”

“Wow, what a flair for words. Absolute poetry.”

“Peter!”

He raised his head. “We were on the same page, okay? I just don’t think it was official until the actual words were said.”

Johnny kept frowning at him.

“Okay, fine,” Peter relented, rolling his eyes and sighing so loudly, Johnny wanted to smother him. “You win. Five days since we declared undying love for each other via kinky handjobs. Romantic.”

“You really know how to ruin everything.”

Peter kissed his stomach, right underneath the bellybutton, and Johnny’s abs flexed involuntarily. “Say that again.”

“That’s cheating.”

“I forget what game we’re playing,” he said innocently, planting more kisses further south.

Johnny reached down and tugged on his hair, making him hiss. “Don’t distract me. You _know_ where this conversation started.”

“You want to tell everyone.”

“Our family and maybe some friends. And sure, everyone eventually, but that can wait.”

“When you say ‘everyone’, you mean except Sue, right?”

Johnny laughed hollowly. “Believe me, I don’t want to see how smug she’ll be, either. But you know it’s impossible to keep her out of the loop.”

“Wishful thinking.” Peter drummed his long, slender fingers on Johnny’s thigh. “We could tell Aunt May and Jay first.”

Johnny cocked his head, incredulous. “You sure?”

“She’ll want to be told before anyone else, anyway. You don’t want to be on the receiving end of one of her I’m-so-disappointed-you-didn’t-come-to-me-first looks. Besides, she adores me. What could go wrong?”

Johnny inhaled sharply. “You idiot. Now you’ve jinxed us.”

“We’re jinxed just by _being_ us.”

Johnny scowled but couldn’t really disagree. “Fine. We’ll tell them first, but we need to work on your delivery. You’re not exactly known for your tact and subtlety.”

“Says the guy who has to yell ‘Flame on!’ when actually flaming on.”

Johnny gave in to the tiny voice in his head, picked up a pillow, and pushed it onto Peter’s annoying, laughing face.

“I _hate_ you,” Johnny said, with feeling, after Peter had knocked the pillow away and grabbed his hands.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, and bent his head.

All thought was wiped from Johnny’s brain in the next instant, the whole world narrowing down to nothing but Peter’s clever tongue and clever mouth and equally clever fingers.

 

+///+

 

Things went wrong and Johnny was attacked by an alien dinosaur, because Johnny was right and Peter was an idiot. The fight had gone on for way too long, with too many heroes and too many weird creatures pouring into the park that it became difficult for Johnny to fight effectively, worried he’d burn friend instead of foe. Then, at one point after getting thrown into a pizza cart, Johnny got tail-whapped into a hotdog stand and Peter had gone on a rampage. Johnny wasn’t entirely certain Peter had punched out five dinosaurs because he was pissed about Johnny getting hurt and not because he had loved that hotdog stand.

They made their way back to the Baxter Building post-battle, moaning through an assortment of scratches and bruises, and stumbled in through the window to Johnny’s room via webline.

Peter shrugged Johnny’s arms off his shoulders once inside and promptly face-planted onto the carpet.

“We need to cancel lunch with Aunt May,” Johnny said. “You look like you got hit in the face by a lamppost.”

“Excuse me, _my_ face attacked the lamppost. And my face _won_.”

Johnny rolled him onto his back and gripped his nose.

“Ow, ow, _ow_! Hey!”

“You broke it again,” Johnny said, exasperated. “I’ll get Reed.”

It took half an hour to get Peter’s nose to stop bleeding and set, mostly because he wouldn’t shut the fuck up and stop complaining.  Johnny was seriously starting to reconsider the whole dating him thing.

“How do I look?” Peter asked when it was all over, sounding like he had a truck backed up his nose.

Johnny looked down at him, lying on the exam table. There was a scratch over his right eyebrow, another on his right cheek, and an ugly bruise on his chin. Johnny knew something had to be wrong with himself because none of those things made him _not_ want to jump Peter’s bones right that instant.

“Vaguely human,” Johnny said instead, happy that he at least managed to keep his voice steady.

“I’ll take it,” Peter grinned, reaching up and guiding Johnny’s head down towards his.

He was still really good at kissing despite his injuries. Johnny was willing to put up with the ceaseless complaining about absolutely everything if it meant being kissed like that for the rest of his life.

“Uh.”

They froze, remembering that they were still in the med bay and Reed had only stepped out to get some more cotton swabs.

Peter sighed and let Johnny back up.

“Is that new?” Reed asked, when they both looked at him.

“Really new,” Johnny said. “Please don’t tell Sue yet?”

“I try not keep secrets from my wife, Johnny.”

“You try not to, meaning you actually do.”

“Sometimes.”

“Look, we’ll tell her,” Peter said. “We have actual plans for telling everyone we care about. We just want to do it on our own terms, in our own time.”

Johnny smiled down at him. He reached over and curled his fingers around Peter’s.

Reed eyed their joined hands. “All right. I won’t tell her for now. But I hope you intend to get to it yourselves soon.”

“Thanks.”

Johnny squeezed Peter’s fingers. “Hey, Reed.”

“Yes, Johnny?”

“Get out.”

Reed took one look at them and swiftly retreated.

“I’m grievously injured,” Peter protested, exaggerating, as Johnny held him down on the exam table, hands skimming his flat stomach. Johnny wanted to just grind down on top of him and come all over those perfect abs.

“It’s okay. You can just lie there,” Johnny said, climbing up to straddle him to do just what he wanted, knowing full well Peter wouldn’t just lie there and would do his best to get in the way.

Peter pulled him down for another kiss, much more filthy and full of promise.

“You are annoyingly good at that,” Johnny moaned, his lower lip trapped between Peter’s teeth.

Peter’s hands cupped his ass, rocking Johnny’s hips down against his.

“That, too.”

“Shut up, Johnny.”

“ _You_ shut up, Pete.”

Peter solved the problem by sealing Johnny’s mouth with his, keeping them both occupied for the next several minutes, after which Johnny lost all capacity for words beyond anything other than Peter’s name.

 

+///+

 

“Stop fidgeting,” Johnny hissed on Aunt May’s front porch a few days later. He poked Peter in the side and immediately regretted it. He’d forgotten about the abs.

Peter shot him a look. “I can’t help it, okay? I’m nervous. I’m this close to jumping onto the ceiling.”

“Please don’t. Talking to you upside-down gives me a headache.” Johnny reached up and smoothed Peter’s collar. “Why are you nervous, anyway? I know how many girls you’ve probably brought home to meet her.”

“Yeah, that’s just it. Girls.”

Johnny raised an eyebrow at him. “You…You’re not out.”

Peter laughed humorlessly. “Not to her. Didn’t really think I’d ever have to be.”

Johnny frowned and dragged him away from the door. “Let’s talk about this for a second.”

“Okay?”

“It didn’t seem to bother you when Luke and Reed found out and you seemed so confident when we first discussed this.”

Peter shrugged. “It did bother me a little. Their opinion just…don’t matter as much. And you know me, right? You know how I am when something really makes me anxious?”

“You put on an act. I should have seen through it.” Johnny frowned. “What did you mean, you didn’t think you’d have to be?”

He sighed. “It’s not like I was ever attracted to all that many men, and the only one I was interested in pursuing a relationship with was off-limits. Or so I thought, anyway.”

 _Me, he means me,_ Johnny realized, fingertips tingling at the realization. “I had no idea,” he said instead. “And I kinda pressured you into this—”

“Johnny. You know better than anyone that I won’t do anything I don’t want to.  Hell, you know how hard it is to get me to do something I _want_  to do.  You didn’t pressure me, okay?”

Johnny reached out and took his hand. “If I know anything about you, it’s that you were raised by someone amazing. She has to be, not to go insane with you.”

“I recognize that for both the insult and the compliment that it is,” Peter told him solemnly, tangling their fingers together. He jerked his head toward the front door and they stepped up to it once more.

“You know, for someone who claims no prior experience, you’re awfully good at playing the male body.”

Peter gave him a look. “Well, I _do_ have one.”

Johnny gasped dramatically. “Peter _Parker_.” He paused. “Okay, now i’m picturing you experimenting on yourself and this is the worst possible time for me to get a boner, man. Quick, do something annoying.”

He snorted and rang the doorbell, raising their entwined hands and brushing the back of Johnny’s with his lips, dark eyes hot but also faintly amused.

But then he was letting go, straightening his shoulders, and schooling his expression.

The door opened a split second later, and the woman Johnny had once met briefly, years and years ago, smiled. “Peter. You’re here.”

Johnny stepped back so Peter could give the woman who was practically his mother a hug. “Why do you sound surprised, Aunt May?” he laughed, briefly lifting her off her feet. “You knew we were coming.”

“Yes, well, you canceled at the last minute before, and now you’re actually on time.”

“Ouch.”

May turned to Johnny, a hint of a question in her eyes.

“Oh. Aunt May, this is—”

“I remember Johnny Storm, dear. He came over once.”

“Right.”

“When you said there was someone you wanted me to meet, I thought—”

Peter ducked his head, a familiar shy, nervous smile making an appearance on his face. “Yes. About that…” he held a hand out expectantly, and Johnny took it. Peter’s fingers were icy cold.

May watched the gesture and understood. “Oh. I see.”

“Can we come in?” he asked.  It was a simple question, but Peter was putting everything on the line with it.

“Well, of course you can. Who else is going to eat the mountain of carbonara in the kitchen?” She turned around. “You boys head for the dining room. I’ll find Jay.”

Johnny looked at Peter, eyebrows raised. “See? She’s amazing. Just like you.”

Peter rolled his eyes, but Johnny caught the relief in them, anyway.

 

+///+

 

Dinner was going really well and the food was great. But there was eventually a lull in the conversation, and Jay just had to ask, “You know, I’m _really_ curious, but how did you two even meet?”

“That’s…a bit tricky,” Johnny said, ignoring Peter’s elbow digging into his ribs. “The first time we met, I didn’t even realize we had.”

“What does that mean?”

Peter’s elbow dug in harder and Johnny frowned at him. “I made a speech at his high school and he came up to thank me. Apparently, I was very inspirational.”

Peter’s elbow eased up, finally seeing that Johnny was going nowhere near Spider-Man. “Fifteen-year-old me had decidedly lower standards,” he said.

Johnny kicked him.

“You never mentioned that, Peter,” Aunt May said, surprised.

“It wasn’t a big deal, Aunt May,” Peter lied. “Besides, it’s not like anything came of it. He doesn’t even remember it happened.”

“I guess the meeting that actually counted was when I accused him of making a move on my girlfriend,” Johnny mused.

Aunt May’s eyebrows shot up. “And was he?”

“No!” Peter interjected.

“He wasn’t,”’Johnny assured her. “Anyway, the point is, we met a long time ago, and it was a long way to get from there to here.”

Aunt May sighed. “I can’t really say I’m all that surprised he’s with someone like you.”

Peter blinked. “You aren’t?”

“Always taking pictures of all those people calling themselves heroes…For the longest time you had a Spider-Man obsession. I wouldn’t have been shocked if you’d brought him home.”

Peter choked on a mouthful of water and Johnny smirked at him.

“Oh, I know _exactly_ what you mean,” Johnny said, because seeing Peter so red in the face was entertaining. “It’s always ‘Spider-Man did this and that today, Johnny. Maybe you can help Spidey with something, Johnny. Spidey said he's better than you, Johnny.’ Not to mention all those shots he manages to get of Spidey’s cute butt.”

Even Jay was struggling to contain his laughter.

“Do you want me to leave so you can make fun of me more freely?” Peter asked acidly, halfway out of his chair.

“Sit down, babe,” Johnny said, pulling him back. “I mean, I totally get it. _I_ wanted to date Spider-Man at some point. Come to think of it, I _still_ want to date Spider-Man.”

Peter looked like he wanted to strangle Johnny. “Can we talk about something else? Please?”

Jay cleared his throat and took pity on him. “That reminds me. May and I have finally decided on where to go for that trip I mentioned last time.”

“Where?” Peter asked as Johnny draped an arm across the back of his chair.

Jay launched into a detailed description of their trip and the itinerary, but Johnny wasn’t really listening anymore, his eyes glued to Peter’s face. His listening face, Johnny called it in his head. The one that was all serious and intent and made Johnny feel like whatever nonsense he was saying was the most important thing in the world.  Johnny didn’t see it that often, and he wondered if it was reserved for such a small circle of people.

He scooted his chair closer. Peter glanced at him, his gaze fond, and wrapped an arm around Johnny’s shoulders.

Johnny was sure he had a stupid grin on his face and turned to hide it behind Peter’s back. But it was too late. May had already seen it. The look she gave him was both amused and…pleased? Happy? Johnny couldn’t be certain but he hoped she was.

 

+///+

 

“Ha!” Johnny exclaimed, triumphant, leaning out of Peter’s bedroom window and finding him perched on the porch roof. “So this is where you disappeared to after Aunt May said the magic words, ‘Would anyone like to lend me a hand with the dishes?’”

“Does she still need it?”

Johnny shook his head and lightly stepped out to join him. The moon looked unusually large, on the cusp of fullness. “She said I’m very useful. Got the dishes all clean and bacteria-free and dried in a couple of minutes.”

“It’s always nice to have a back up career,” Peter said as Johnny sat down next to him, long legs dangling over the edge.

“I think she likes me.”

“Who wouldn’t?”

Johnny shrugged. “ _You_ didn’t. You know it always pissed me off for some reason? That Peter Parker hated me? And I couldn’t stop myself from starting arguments with you because it was just so frustrating. I couldn’t tell you why back then, but now it all makes sense.”

“I didn’t hate you, Torch. I was just young and dumb and hot-headed and — next to you — never good enough.”

“You know those are _my_ lines?”

“Speaking of lines.” Peter leveled a stern look at him. “You want to date Spider-Man? Seriously? You trying to kill me, Johnny?”

“I hope you don’t mind. I get one free pass, right?”

Peter rolled his eyes.

“I’ve been trying to get him to fuck me in the suit, too. Because it’s super hot. That red and blue—”

“Shut up,” Peter said, and kissed him.

Johnny closed his eyes and opened his mouth, kissing back so fiercely, it almost hurt to breathe. He broke away reluctantly, laying their noses side by side. “Take me home, Pete?”

Peter’s lips brushed against his cheek. “Yeah…Yeah, I can do that.”

 

+///+

 

It was a new thing, sleeping in the same bed as Peter not because it was where they’d just had sex. Not ripping their clothes off the instant they were alone was new in itself. Ever since they got together, they couldn’t keep their hands off each other. Always touching, always standing close, kissing whenever they thought they could get away with it, fucking anywhere with a door that locked. In hindsight, it all seemed just a little bit insane, as if they had been in a race and first had to catch up and then, once caught up, needed to get way, way ahead.

Finally, they could afford to stand still.

Johnny could just focus on being close to him without the frenzied distraction of sex. It felt…nice. Good. He didn’t mind that Peter was treating him like his own personal space heater while the radiator was broken, or that Peter was surprisingly heavy—all that tight, dense muscle draped over Johnny, completely relaxed. Johnny didn’t even mind the slow, deep kisses that led nowhere, Peter’s hand in Johnny’s borrowed pajamas not doing anything besides resting against the warmth of his thigh.

“We should tell your sister tomorrow. Just walk up to her and rip the band-aid right off. I’m sure she won’t slap me. I haven’t broken your heart yet.”

“Yet? You planning to?” Johnny asked.

Peter squeezed his thigh. “I’m planning _not_ to.”

Johnny laughed softly, playing with the fingers on Peter’s free hand. “Yeah, _you_ would have to actively try not to break a heart. God. You really are the worst boyfriend.”

“Feel free to break up with—these were your exact words— _the best sex you’ve ever had_ any time.”

“I’m pretty sure I was delirious when I said that.”

“Yeah, from _great sex_.”

“Go to sleep or I’m knocking you out,” Johnny grumbled.

Peter lifted his head and kissed him again, leisurely and unhurried. “You’re adorable when you’re embarrassed.”

Johnny shoved him off, but Peter just laughed, pulling him along until their positions were reversed.

Johnny sighed and lowered his head, ear pressed to Peter’s chest, right over his heart. He could hear the steady beat, faster than was ever safe for any normal human, and imagined it was beating faster still because of _him_ , Johnny Storm, and no one else.

“You’ve gone all still, but you’re not asleep,” Peter murmured, stroking Johnny’s hair. “What are you thinking, hot stuff?”

Johnny looked up at him through his lashes. _That I love you so much, it scares me._ “I’m trying to figure out when I lost my mind and fell in love with you.”

Peter snorted. “When you do, can you figure out the same for me?”

“Well, I’m never gonna get ‘round to _that_.”

“Ass.”

“Jerk.”

Peter buried his laughter in Johnny’s hair, and oh, Johnny loved it when he did that.

“Go to sleep, Spider-Man,” he said softly. “You’ve got whole worlds to save tomorrow.”

“No pressure,” Peter murmured, sounding close to passing out, anyway.

He upped his heat ever so slightly, in all the right places, and Peter let out a contented sigh.

Johnny squeezed his eyes shut and wished, if only for Peter’s sake, that the night would never end.

 

+///+

 

Johnny woke up alone in Peter’s bed at three in the morning. He stared up at the ceiling, debating with himself for several minutes. Peter would come back. This wasn’t like all those movie nights when he’d just disappear without saying goodbye. Not anymore, at least.

Besides, it was _his_ apartment, he was bound to come back sooner or later.

And as if the thought had summoned him, a shadow suddenly popped up in the window, appearing from below the windowsill and crawling in. If Johnny hadn’t already known who it was, he would have been creeped out. He still was a little bit. There was something a little predatory in the way Peter moved sometimes, sticking to the shadows, all power and grace, unnaturally nimble limbs and hands that could crush a man’s bones.

Peter rose and slipped off his mask, coming to stand at the foot of the bed. His body was running even hotter than normal, Johnny could feel it. All that extra adrenaline coming from an hour or more of swinging. “You’re awake.”

“Yeah. You okay?”

Peter turned away, headed for his sweatpants, pooled on the floor. “Yeah, nothing too interesting out there,” he said, and peeled off his suit. He changed back into the pants and crawled into bed, dropping a kiss on Johnny’s shoulder before falling face-down next to him.

Johnny rolled onto his side and put a warm hand on his back.

“Ah. That feels nice, Sparky. I really should have started sleeping with you sooner.”

Johnny shoved him into the bed, making him chuckle. “You could have. I was practically throwing myself at you for ages. But you were too dumb to notice.”

“Maybe you should have tried skywriting it.”

Johnny made a face and slid on top of him, straddling his hips, hands sliding between his shoulder blades and digging in. “How does this feel?”

“Better than sex.”

“Keep that up and you’re never getting any again.”

“Aw, babe. Just as long as the massages don’t stop—oof!”

Johnny grinned viciously. “Sorry. My hand slipped.”

“Haha,” Peter said dryly, his voice muffled by his pillow.

Johnny moved his hands lower, listening to his breathing slow and deepen. “Pete.”

“Hmm?”

“I like my place better than yours.”

“Yeah? Who wouldn’t? But, I mean, you’ve been here before and it was your idea to come home with me tonight.”

Johnny frowned. “I’m not complaining, Peter. I’m just…”

“Look, I’m sorry I don’t live in a five star hotel, but you knew what you were getting into.”

Johnny could feel the conversation starting to get away from him. He knew about Peter’s insecurities about his financial status, all his hang-ups relating to money, and he hadn’t meant to stir them up. “That’s not what I’m trying to say,” he said, frustrated.

Peter reached behind him and pulled Johnny’s hands away from his back.

Johnny rose up slightly, letting him turn over onto beneath him, and settled back on Peter’s hard stomach.

Peter looked up at him — at least Johnny assumed he was looking at him. It was difficult to tell in the dark. “What’s this about, Torch?”

Johnny leaned down and kissed him instead of answering, pushing his tongue into Peter’s mouth, hot and wet.

But he wasn’t to be distracted. “Johnny?” he asked, when Johnny’s lips moved to trace the line of his jaw.

Johnny sighed and stopped, pressing his face into the pillow just above Peter’s shoulder. “I’m trying to ask you to move in with me.”

He heard the sharp intake of breath and felt Peter’s body tense. “Johnny.”

“It’s better,” Johnny said. “You hate this place. You hate your roommate, and honestly she’s horrible to you. You wouldn’t need to hide being Spider-Man around me. You’d never need to worry about the rent. The radiator would never be broken—”

“Stop it.” Peter sounded on the verge of angry.

Johnny bit his tongue. He hadn’t meant to say the last couple of things. Anyone else would have seen them as incentive, but Peter’s pride would never let him.

“Let’s try this again. What’s this about, Johnny?”

Johnny hated it when Peter was actually perceptive. “I woke up and you weren’t here.”

“Something you also knew to expect when you signed up for this. And I’m back, aren’t I?”

“And I _like_ my place better,” Johnny continued, as though he hadn’t been interrupted. “The bed’s bigger. We could be loud. You could fuck me into the mattress without worrying about breaking the bed.”

Peter made an odd, choking noise.

“But then you’d go out, like you always do, and you wouldn’t actually come back because _this_ is where you go home to.”

“Oh. I see,” Peter said, some of the tension leaving his body, and Johnny felt his hand on the back of his head.

Johnny exhaled in a huff.

“Johnny, we’ve been a thing for barely over a week. We’ve been all over each other since then. Maybe we should—”

“I will punch you in the face if you say ‘slow down.’”

“I was going to say ‘calm down,’ actually.”

Johnny knew he had a point. He’s not used to himself feeling like this, either. This intense neediness to the point of being selfish—it wasn’t exactly _new_ , but it was Johnny’s normal self turned up to eleven.  But he was tired of keeping Peter at a loose arm’s length. He’d done that for years, too worried about scaring him away, about smothering him by holding on too tightly. Now he just wanted to hold on, for as long as he could.

“You don’t know how annoying I can be as a roommate,” Peter said, half-joking as he stroked Johnny’s hair.

“I’m pretty sure I know _exactly_ how annoying you can be, just generally speaking.”

“I don’t think I should move in with you right now, Johnny.”

Johnny shut his eyes. “I know.”

“It’s just not something you rush into, and I _know_ we already know each other well enough, but it’s a big adjustment.”

“I _know_ ,” he said thickly, wishing he’d just kept his mouth shut, because then he wouldn’t have to deal with the stupid sting of rejection.

“I like my space.”

 _Jesus Christ, stop talking_.

“But if you want me to spend the night, waking up together when the sun comes up—well, I’d probably be awake long before then—but at least _being_ there, when morning comes, with you…I can do that.”

Johnny raised his head and looked at him.

“All you have to do is ask.”

“I’m asking,” Johnny said hastily. “In advance. For every time you stay over in the future.”

“I’m not saying yes in advance,” Peter said stubbornly. “You have your own life and something might come up.”

Johnny rolled his eyes and kissed him. “I was ready to throw in a hundred percent. But fine. The invitation’s there, permanently. But you can decide whatever, whenever you want. Okay?”

Peter nodded. And then groaned.

“What? What now?”

“We _really_ have to tell Sue, don’t we?  Otherwise she's going to be in for a shock if I just turn up for breakfast.”

“She loves you. I don’t know what you’re worried about.”

“It’s just, it wasn’t that long ago when I looked her in the eye and told her we weren’t dating.”

“Except we were. All the feelings were there. You were just too dumb. I get it. Admitting you’re stupid is difficult to do.”

Peter squeezed his shoulder. “Okay. Okay, ripping off the band-aid. Tomorrow night?”

“Technically, tomorrow is today.”

“Oh, boy.”

“Can’t ever break up with me after tonight or else Ben will break your kneecaps.”

“Valeria scares me more, honestly.”

Johnny laughed, suddenly giddy. “I’ll tell them you’re coming over for dinner. It’s movie night, anyway.”

“Great,” came the wan reply.

Johnny planted a noisy kiss on his cheek. “It’ll be fine. You’ll see.”

“Yeah. What could—”

Johnny slapped a hand over his mouth. “Jinx us again,” he said sweetly, “and I will burn all your clothes.”

“But then I’d have to walk around naked, then you’d never get anything done.”

Johnny had to kiss him, if only to shut him up.

 

+///+

 

Peter was late. Ben was giving Johnny dirty looks across the dining table, chomping at the bit to get at the food, and Peter was _late._ Johnny’s not sure why he expected better.

His phone rang and Johnny’s hand instantly dove into his pocket.

Sue frowned. “No tech at the table, how many times do I—”

“Reed’s got _his_ tablet folded away in his thigh.”

Sue stared at her husband.

Johnny tuned them out, seeing Peter’s picture on the display. It was one of Johnny’s favorites because he’d caught Peter mid-laugh, mouth open and eyes crinkled shut. He looked stupidly adorable. “You’re late,” he hissed into the receiver.

“Tell him I’m eating his share,” Ben said loudly, refusing to wait any longer and reaching for a chicken leg. “You shoulda just let me eat with Val and Franklin.”

“Benjamin J. Grimm!” Sue called, furious.

“You hear that, Pete?” Johnny asked. “Sue’s about to break out the full names. This is what you being late has done to this family.”

“Johnny. I’m, uh, kind of in trouble here. Think you can excuse me this time?”

Johnny jumped to his feet, overturning his chair and bringing all the arguments at the table to a halt. “What kind of trouble?”

Reed dropped his tablet. “I’ll fetch the car. Wait by the window,” he told Ben and Sue, already stretched to the door.

“Yeah…remember the alien dinosaur things from the park?” Peter asked from the phone. “They’re, uh, kinda back. And I think they’re holding a grudge because Captain America just punched one of them in the face but they’re all still coming after me.”

Johnny ran to the nearest window and threw it open. “I told you! I told you they seemed like they could understand human speech and knew you were making fun of the way they looked!”

“Well, you were wrong. They _don’t_ understand human speech,” Peter said, several things crashing over the other end of the line. “I have been informed that they’re actually _telepathic_.”

“Where are you so I can set you on fire?”

“North of Central Park. See ya, honey.” He hung up, which was just as well. Johnny tossed his phone over his shoulder and flamed on.

“Johnny?” Sue called questioningly.

“Central Park! I’ll meet you there!” Johnny answered and threw himself out the window. He was going to kill his boyfriend.

 

+///+

 

The fight was mostly over by the time Johnny arrived, the rest of his team not far behind. He only had the chance to sear off the tail of one of them before a dark-skinned fist smashed into the side of the creature’s head, felling it instantly, and then there was nothing left to fight.  Some of the alien monsters had made the mistake of following Spider-Man away from Central Park to Harlem, where Luke Cage was being a hyper-protective dad and predictably reacted like one.

“He went off that way,” Luke told him with a vague wave of his arm, two velociraptor-sized aliens, no longer moving, by his feet.

Johnny started to change direction.

“Storm!” Luke yelled after him.

“What?”

“There was a baby T-rex sized thing…and three more of these.”

Johnny sped away. The warning was useless as it had only slowed him down. Johnny followed the trail of smashed storefronts and flattened cars with growing trepidation. The path to Harlem had been similarly decorated, with exhausted heroes — super or otherwise — scattered along the way. Spider-Man’s webbing was everywhere, temporarily holding up weakened structures, keeping shattered plate glass together, and serving as nets for a few civilians who had apparently been thrown through the air. Peter had been busy and, despite the heroes now behind him, he’d likely done all this by himself. No one ever had Spider-Man’s back.

 _That’s supposed to be_ your _job, Johnny_ , he told himself. The others were too accustomed to seeing Peter fighting on his own that they probably never thought to help him, and Peter was too used to working alone to ask. Johnny would have known better, but Johnny hadn’t been there.

He rounded a corner and stopped short. There, lying on its side and stretched across three basketball courts, the fences between them crumpled beneath its weight, was something definitely alien and enormous. Upon closer examination, it was still alive, although by the looks of it, its rear (feet? claws?) limbs were twisted, if not broken, and it was clearly out like a light. But the most interesting thing was the immense amount of webbing that had been consumed, sealing its jaws shut and sticking it to the ground.

“I hope you brought a big enough tranquilizer gun,” Johnny called back to Reed, where the others followed him in the car.

“I made a formula after the last time these creatures came here. I suppose it’s about time for field tests. As for method of delivery—,” Reed smiled, “—that’s what Ben and an adamantium syringe are for.”

“Good for you,” Johnny said coolly, looking up and down the street.

“Leave me and Ben here,” Reed told Sue, pouring himself out of the car and onto the pavement like a slinky. “The boys will probably need you more.”

Johnny didn’t even have time to resent being treated and referred to as a child. He was far too busy being terrified.

“Come on, Pete. Where are you?”

As if in answer, something large and velociraptor-shaped flew out of an alley to land unmoving in the middle of the avenue.

Johnny put on speed.

“Johnny, be careful!” he heard Sue call after him just before he banked around the corner.

There were two more of the monsters in the alley, both also out cold, with a familiar figure standing between them. His back was to Johnny and the entrance to the alley. Under the dim streetlights, Johnny could see his shoulders heaving, body steaming from exertion in the cool air.

Johnny flamed off and approached. He was just about to call out to him when, in the time it took to blink, the figure went from standing still, about five meters away, to standing right in front of Johnny, arm drawn back to punch, one brown eye peeking out between the jagged edges of a shattered lens.

Spider-Man froze. “Torch.” Slowly, he lowered his arm. “Don’t _do_ that. I almost took your head off.”

Johnny stared at him. Every line of muscle in Peter’s body was tense, and his one visible eye was wild and hungry, the hint of something dark just lurking beneath the surface. “Did I set off your spider sense or something?”

“What?” Peter asked absently. “No. But some enemies don’t so I… Anyway, don’t do that okay? Sometimes, when I’m fighting, I don’t think straight.”

“Only sometimes?” Johnny asked quietly, gripping the wrist attached to the hand that had been about to punch him into oblivion. He pulled it back up and studied it. His glove was in tatters, knuckles scraped and bleeding, and he was shaking all over. He frowned. “Spidey. Calm down, okay?”

Peter clenched his fist.

“Okay, that’s the opposite of calming down.” Johnny lowered his hand again and reached for the edge of his mask.

“What—”

“Ssh. It’s okay. I just wanna—”

“Torch.”

“I’m not taking it off all the way,” Johnny said calmly, and tugged slowly upward, rolling the mask up past his his chin, over his mouth, and just past the bump on his nose. Johnny brushed his thumb over Peter’s lips. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“Just—just my fists,” he mumbled. “Thick scales.”

Johnny’s moved his hand to curl it around the nape of Peter’s neck, gripped his shoulder with the other, and dragged him in.

“Johnny—”

Kissing Peter was like kissing a statue, his shoulders stiff under Johnny’s hand, his spine rigid. Johnny’s relief at seeing him all right evaporated quickly. There was still too much energy in him, coiled and straining to be released, all intended for punching and kicking and fighting things that were no longer capable of fighting him back.

Over Johnny’s shoulder, somewhere behind him, someone cleared their throat. _Oh. Shit,_ Johnny thought, remembering.

Peter’s brow straightened then arched upward, the serious frown on his face transforming to one of surprise as he looked over Johnny’s shoulder. “Did you just kiss me in front of your sister, Flamebrain?”

Johnny turned slowly and found Sue, still in the hovering Fantasticar, watching them with both interest and amusement. “Uh. Yeah. I guess I did, Webhead.”

Sue turned to Peter. “You’re not dating him, huh?”

“No,” Peter said, mouth out of control as usual. “You were right. I’m just sleeping with him.”

Johnny looked at him, torn between horror and laughter. “Did you just sass my _sister_?”

“I got hit on the head a couple of times,” Peter admitted.

He was joking. A good sign, Johnny knew, but his posture still hadn’t relaxed an inch.

“Take him home, Johnny,” Sue said after looking Peter up and down. “Spider-Man’s done enough tonight, I think.”

Peter opened his mouth, because he was terminally incapable of knowing when he needed to shut up, but Johnny didn’t wait to hear what he was going to say. He grabbed Peter by one arm and flamed on.

“I will kill you for this, Storm,” Peter said as Johnny flew off with him. “Let me go.”

“No.”

“I’m still capable of swinging!”

“I saw how much webbing you used up on that big dinosaur. You’re low.”

Peter’s silence told him his guess was correct.

“Just shut up and stop being a baby,” Johnny told him.

Peter’s silence grew even more sullen, but Johnny didn’t care so long as he wasn’t actively struggling.

He flew them home, right up to the window he had jumped out of earlier, and dropped Spider-Man in the middle of the living room, finally putting out his flames.

Peter ripped off his damaged mask and flung it aside. He looked about to start complaining, which Johnny supposed was his default state.

“Wait,” Johnny told him, taking his hand and pulling him along, toward his bedroom. He locked them in as soon as they were inside.

“What are you doing?” Peter asked, stepping back.

Johnny picked up his hands again, studying them. “Go wash the blood off.”

Peter’s brows snapped together again but he went to Johnny’s bathroom to do as he was told.  He emerged after several minutes, having lost his ripped-up gloves, hands not only clean but most scrapes already healed or healing.

Johnny checked them until he was satisfied.

“Now what?” Peter asked.

Johnny stared at him and slowly backed him into the nearest wall.

Peter’s eyes widened ever so slightly. “Johnny. What are you doing?” he asked again.

Johnny’s hands skimmed his stomach, feeling for the seam in his suit. “Pete, I love you.” His fingers caught on the edge of his waistband and gave it an experimental tug. “But you need to learn to stop talking.”

Peter made an interesting noise when Johnny‘s hand wandered to the front of his crotch, rubbing circles with his thumb where he could feel the head of his cock.

Johnny kept his eyes on Peter’s face as he continued touching him. “And to answer your question, it’s not so much what I’m about to do and more about what I want _you_ to do to _me.”_

Peter stared at him, and it looked like he’d stopped breathing. “What do you want me to do to you, Johnny?”

Johnny leaned forward, thumb drifting excruciatingly slow. “Peter. What do you think?” he asked, and pointedly pressed his palm between Peter’s legs, cupping him through the suit. He felt Peter jump in his hand, going from zero to hard in almost an instant.

Peter spun them around, switching places so it was Johnny shoved up with his back against the wall, the wind suddenly knocked out of him. “You don’t want this right now, Johnny.”

“Yes, I do. So do you,” he said breathlessly with a pointed glance downward.

Peter hesitated. Johnny could still see it in his eyes — something hot and dark at the same time, a flame that could burn even the Human Torch, if they both let it.

“Last chance,” Peter whispered.

Johnny kissed him.

Peter drew in a deep breath through his nose and went completely still. For a moment, Johnny was afraid he would stop after all. And then he started kissing back, hard and bruising, his tongue shoving into Johnny’s mouth possessively.

Johnny raised his hands to Peter’s chest and made a half-hearted attempt at pushing him back.

Peter didn’t move so much as a millimeter and  Johnny pushed harder.

Peter pulled his head back, breaking the kiss. “Push me again and I’m stopping this whole thing.”

Johnny held his hands up against the wall, on either side of his head, a gesture of surrender. He felt like he was burning without his flames. “God. You have no idea how fucking hot you are like this.”

Peter frowned at him. “Pick a word, Johnny.”

“Are you honestly asking me for a safe word? I can set you on fire, you know.”

Peter’s hands came up to push Johnny’s wrists into the wall behind him. “Pick. A. Word.”

Johnny licked his lips. He just wanted Peter to kiss him again. “Nanotubes.”

Peter stared at him. “What.”

“I heard you and Reed talking about it and I was overwhelmed by the need to fall asleep. So yeah.” He wriggled in Peter’s grip. “Come _on_ , Pete, or I really might pass out.”

“And if you somehow can’t speak?” he asked, ignoring Johnny’s explanation.

Johnny’s heart skipped at the implication. “Three taps—like this—” He paused to demonstrate against the wall. “On the back of your hand.”

Peter stepped back slightly, dark eyes raking Johnny’s figure, assessing.

Johnny shivered even though he hadn’t felt cold ever since his first trip to space. “Are you going to web me up? Because—”

“No.”

Johnny stopped talking. He would have been disappointed, if not for the look on Peter’s face.

The next kiss was even more punishing than the last. Peter’s fingers digging into the plaster on Johnny’s bedroom wall as he pinned Johnny against it. He could hear it crumbling by his ear, near where his wrists were, and Johnny moaned at the thought of that hidden strength finally being put to use, even at just a fraction if its true extent.

Peter bit Johnny’s lip, definitely harder than he usually did, and tugged on it until Johnny drew his breath in sharply from the sting. Normally, at that point, Peter would have stopped to ask if he was all right. But for once, he didn’t seem to care. That was what the safe word was for, after all.  If Johnny wanted to be coddled, he only needed to say it.  But Johnny didn't want that, so Peter didn’t apologize. Peter didn’t express his concern. Peter didn’t even do that thing where he’d soothe Johnny’s pain with a kiss.

Instead, he took Johnny’s right hand, dragged it off the wall, and pushed it inside his pants, his hips jerking against the slight curl of Johnny’s palm.

Johnny let him set the pace. Let him arrange Johnny’s fingers on his steadily growing length. Let him use Johnny’s hand as he saw fit, just as he had wanted. Just as he wanted Peter to use all of him, now when Peter needed release so badly.

Peter’s panting grew uneven and he shifted, leaning forward to press his forehead into the wall over Johnny’s shoulder, moving Johnny’s hand on his shaft faster and faster, his cock now leaking, pulsing in waves. Johnny could feel Peter’s breath, hot against his neck, and hear all the little noises he was making, trying to be quiet as he pleasured himself with Johnny’s hand, his shoulders trembling.

Johnny didn’t want it to end just like that. Taking Peter apart, watching that finely-tuned control give, even just a little, all of it deserved more than a rushed handjob.

Johnny pushed back against him and pulled his hand away.

“Torch—”

He sank down to his knees and the words died on Peter’s lips. He locked eyes with him, letting all his desire show on his face, and opened his mouth expectantly.

“Oh,” Peter breathed, hands working at his pants and underwear, pushing them down to his knees and then to the floor. “Oh, you _are_ shameless.”

Johnny didn’t answer, just let his scorching gaze stay glued to Peter’s face even as Peter took the hint and pushed his cock into Johnny’s waiting mouth.

Johnny immediately wrapped his lips around him, sucking and lapping up the flow, tongue teasing the line beneath the head. Johnny felt himself getting hard, even untouched, but his own erection would have to wait, now that Peter was finally doing _exactly_ what Johnny wanted, taking what Johnny was offering without a qualm.

“Stop,” Peter ordered harshly after one particularly hard, lingering pull that hollowed Johnny’s cheeks.

Johnny stopped obediently, coming off with a loud, wet pop, well aware of what a sight he must be, spit and Peter’s pre-come slicking his lips. But Peter must like what he was seeing, judging by the red in his cheeks as he looked at Johnny, the part of his lips. He reached down and wiped the corner of Johnny’s mouth with his thumb, smearing the mess down his chin.

“Open your mouth again,” Peter said, his voice rough, pupils blown wide, and Johnny rushed to obey.

Peter pushed further into him this time, half of him heavy on Johnny’s tongue and stretching his lips. Johnny applied more pressure, loving the way it made Peter throw his head back with a moan, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down when he swallowed back another. Peter’s hips jerked forward and Johnny took more of him in, slow and deliberate.

“Fuck, Johnny. You feel so good,” Peter murmured, starting to move his hips more, sliding in and out of Johnny’s warm mouth.

Johnny made a small sound around his cock, the vibration making Peter shudder and his pelvis stutter in its movement. He raised his hands and put them on Peter’s hips, intending to guide the motion, but Peter pulled them away.

“You don’t get to do that,” Peter said hoarsely.

Johnny glared up at him, took a deep breath through his nose, and swallowed him down to the root in retaliation.

Peter’s eyes grew darker still. “Oh, Johnny. I don’t think you thought that through,” he said, moving one hand to the back of Johnny’s head and holding him there.

 _Fuck._ Fuck, Johnny thought, concentrating on breathing around the cock suddenly down his throat, eyes beginning to water.

Peter pulled Johnny’s head back slowly, leaving only his tip inside and letting him breathe again. Johnny had time to draw in one breath before Peter drove back in, all the way, and held still.

Once more, Johnny did his best to keep him there as long as he could, throat working around Peter’s cock, swallowing around him as he fought the instinctual need to breathe.

“You’re so pretty,” Peter said, and Johnny couldn’t help shivering at the words. “A pretty boy, even like this. A good boy.”

Tears were definitely leaking out the corner of his eyes but Johnny stayed still. He felt like a string, pulled taut close to snapping, thrumming between Peter’s hands. He’d been high before, and this felt exhilaratingly close to it. Little dots started to appear in his field of vision and Johnny, starting to wonder if he might actually pass out, considered tapping out.

But Peter withdrew completely then, and Johnny gasped, heeding his lungs’ screaming need for air. Eventually, he looked up, regaining control of himself. “Please. Again?”

Peter stared at him for a second. "You almost tapped out that time."

"But I didn't!" Johnny said hastily. "I can handle it. Please, Pete? It’ll be good. _I’ll_ be good."

"Only because you're begging for it," Peter relented, feeding his cock between Johnny’s lips slowly, seeming to enjoy the sight of Johnny’s wide mouth stretched around him, the mess on his pretty face. He hit the back of Johnny’s throat and kept on going.

Johnny tried not to choke, forcing back his gag reflex and pressing up with his tongue. Cool blue eyes met Peter’s honey brown ones. Whatever Peter did, he could take it. Whatever Peter wanted, he could give.

“Fuck,” Peter said, the hand brushing Johnny’s hair back deceptively gentle. “You’re perfect,” he murmured, and pushed hard the rest of the way.

Johnny barely had time to process the praise, his brain suddenly shutting down. Everything seemed so far away, except for the cock lodged in his throat, obstructing his airways. He held, every cell in his body shaking with want, the desire to please Peter warring with the desire for air. He struggled to keep his eyes focused, to keep them from rolling into the back of his head. He moaned involuntarily and Peter cursed, his fingers twisting painfully in Johnny’s hair, pelvis pushing forward even though he could go no further.

He pulled out abruptly, a stream of profanity the likes of which Johnny had never heard him utter pouring out of his mouth, while Johnny would have tipped forward if not for Peter’s hands on his shoulders, steadying him as he inhaled in big, greedy gulps.

Peter waited for him to calm down. “You okay, Johnny?”

Johnny nodded, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’m okay. I’m good.”

“Yeah, you’re good,” Peter agreed dryly. “You all right to continue?”

“Yes. Please.” He heard the plea in his voice and wondered when this had stopped being about giving Peter what he needed and started being about giving Johnny what he wanted, but then he figured that maybe, at that moment, it was the same thing.

“Good,” Peter said, hands light on either side of Johnny’s head. “Because I really want to fuck your face.”

A thrill shot up Johnny’s spine at the words, and he was suddenly completely, painfully hard. Johnny whimpered and pushed one hand down his jeans, palming his own erection.

Peter smirked. “That sets you off, huh? Come on, pretty boy. Don’t be shy. Show me.”

Johnny quickly unbuckled his belt and shoved down his jeans just enough to let him take his own hard cock out.

“Come on, Johnny. Show me how you do it when I’m not around.”

Johnny bit his lip and began to stroke himself, dragging his palm slowly up and down, and watched Peter even as Peter watched him, his own hand moving over his slick length, matching Johnny’s pace.

Johnny licked his lips, whining. “Peter. Peter, I want—”

Peter’s free hand reached up to tilt Johnny’s head back. “I know, Johnny. I know what you want,” he said, and shoved himself into his mouth again.

Johnny moaned, getting lost in the pleasure of stroking himself and Peter slipping shallowly in and out of him, and started to close his eyes.

“No. Look at me, hot stuff,” Peter’s voice commanded, and Johnny’s eyes snapped wide open.

Whatever it was that Peter saw in them, he must have liked it, because he picked up the pace, hips slamming forward as he held Johnny’s head still, using his mouth just as he had used Johnny’s hand earlier, fucking Johnny’s face entirely for his own benefit. And it was hot, Johnny thought. Being selfish, letting go just enough, that look of burning hunger in Peter’s eyes—it was perfect. And knowing that he was the one responsible for that look, that it was him knowing what Peter needed and letting him take it, made Johnny so intensely pleased that achieving his own orgasm felt like such a trivial thing.

Peter’s face was beautifully slack, eyes slightly out of focus as he stared down at Johnny, his quick, shallow thrusts punctuated by the occasional hard, bruising push into the back of Johnny’s throat. His voice was going to be ruined by tomorrow, Johnny knew. But he didn’t much care. Being ruined by sex with Peter was pretty much par for the course. Peter had already ruined him for a lot of other things long ago.

“Johnny,” Peter whispered urgently. “Johnny— _fuck_ —I’m close. I’m—”

Peter came with a shout, spilling onto Johnny’s tongue, breaking eye contact when he threw his head back, the beautiful line of his neck as he swallowed making Johnny move his own hand faster along his shaft. Peter pulled out and Johnny made a small noise of complaint, chasing after his come, only to stop when he realized that Peter meant to finish and get the rest on his face.

“Oh, God,” Peter groaned, looking down at him. “Johnny. You’re a mess.”

“You like it,” Johnny said.

Peter laughed shakily, getting down on his knees so they were face to face. “Yeah. Yeah, I do,” he said, and reached for Johnny’s hand on his dick. Peter kissed him, sweet and slow, as he guided Johnny’s hand to his own completion.

It didn’t take long, with Peter touching and kissing him so thoroughly. Johnny’s cry when he came was muffled by Peter’s mouth, and his come was caught by Peter’s fingers, the rest of it spattering onto Johnny’s stomach and dripping onto his own hand.

Johnny leaned his forehead on Peter’s shoulder, breathing heavily. “ _That._ That was _amazing_.”

“Yeah?”

“But also really filthy. Like, literally.”

Peter laughed and Johnny’s heart decided to flirt with cardiac arrest at the sound.

“You okay, Pete?” he asked cautiously.

Peter kissed him on top of his head and Johnny looked up. His eyes were back to their usual neutral expression, though Johnny knew that the fires had only been banked to embers, that they remained there somewhere, ready to be called up at the next fight. Still, a lot of the tension had left his body. This was as calm as Peter could ever get. “Yeah…I’m okay. Hey.”

Johnny raised his eyebrows questioningly.

“You know I love you, right?”

“Yeah…”

“And I think you’re great.”

Johnny furrowed his brow. “Why are you being nice to me?”

“Because of what we just did.  And the way I treated you, even if it’s what we both wanted.”

“I didn’t tap out, did I?”

“No. But—”

“I’m fine. It was incredible.”

Peter looked like there was something else he wanted to say. “Okay,” he said eventually. “Okay. We’ll talk about it some more later. Come on. Let’s get all this mess off.”

Johnny let Peter manhandle him into the bathroom and dump him in the shower, joining him there.

After showering (among other things), Peter crashed, heavily. The battle rage, the adrenaline rush, and the sex high all finally took their toll and he collapsed face-first onto Johnny’s mattress. “Can dinner with your family wait until breakfast?” he asked into Johnny’s pillow.

“Yeah. Cat’s out of the bag, anyway,” Johnny said, tucking him in. “Go to sleep.”

“You?”

“I’m gonna go see if the others are back yet. And they’re probably still interested in food, so I better warm that up.”

Peter didn’t answer, and the slow and steady sound of his breathing told Johnny he’d already fallen asleep.

He was just about to leave his room when someone knocked loudly on the door.

Johnny winced and rushed to open it, finding Ben standing there.

“Dinner got cold,” Ben said accusingly.

“Fine, fine,” Johnny whispered, pushing him until he backed up just enough to let Johnny step out. “What am I, the microwave?”

“No. You’re better. Why are you whispering? Your voice sounds all scratchy.” Ben frowned. “Where’s the bug?”

“He’s _sleeping_ ,” Johnny said, shutting the door softly. “And that’s why _we_ are keeping it down.”

Johnny was immediately greeted upon arriving at the dining room by Sue thrusting the plate of fried chicken into his hands. Johnny obligingly re-heated each dish as it was handed to him, absently listening to their discussion regarding the alien dinosaurs until something caught his attention.

“Wait. _Wait,_ ” he said, warming up a plate of steaks. “The alien dinosaurs are _what_?”

“Not actually alien,” Reed repeated. “Hank has been studying them since the first invasion. They’re off-shoots from _our_ dinosaurs, displaced from the planet via a portal. I imagine they’re what the dominant life on our world would be if there hadn’t been a mass extinction event.”

“But…they’re sentient…”

“Yes. Hank Pym has been communicating with the ones we captured, and it seems they wish to reclaim the earth. They have since been dissuaded, thankfully, but we didn’t have the chance to send them home before the second wave came, sooner than they’d initially planned. Turns out, they wanted revenge against the blue-and-red warrior who took so many of them down while laughing at them the first time.”

Johnny blinked at him. Spider-Man. Peter would lose his shit if he learned he was the cause of an alien invasion. “Sorry,” Johnny said as Sue replaced the steaks with a bowl of mashed potatoes. “But how do you dissuade a race of embittered dinosaurs from coming over and eating us all?”

Reed shrugged. “Peter punched one of their officers in the face and from there it was just a matter of convincing them that Spider-Man’s an out-of-control bloodthirsty maniac who they’d have to face in battle. _And_ that he’s just one of many. Hank showed them some files we have on the other Spider people.”

Johnny almost laughed but he was too tired. “And they believed that? I thought they were telepathic.”

“We _do_ have telepaths of our own to run interference and project false thoughts,” Reed reminded him. “Besides, I imagine tonight’s events have only convinced them further.”

Only Peter could simultaneously cause an alien invasion _and_ serve as its deterrent. Johnny decided he wasn’t telling him any of this. He already thought everything was about him, there was no need to actually reinforce his impression.

Johnny looked at Ben, who was calmly chugging a two-liter bottle of soda. “Telepathic, highly evolved dinosaurs from space.”

“You can set yourself on fire.”

Johnny conceded the point and relinquished the last dish, joining the other three at the table.

“Where _is_ Peter, by the way?” Reed asked, buttering a dinner roll. “He wasn’t hurt badly, was he?”

“No.” Johnny remembered his hands in the shower, gentle as he’d helped wash Johnny’s hair. It was easy to forget that they had punched out a dinosaur more than ten times his size. Easy to forget that his fingers had been caked in blood not too long ago, when they were completely unmarred by the time Johnny had them in his mouth, sucking on them as Peter thrust into him from behind under the hot water. “Nothing that hasn’t already healed up. Anyway, he’s fine. Just tired. He’s passed out now, completely dead to the world.”

Ben swallowed a mouthful of food. “Want me to throw him down the hall to a guest room after dinner?”

Johnny gave him an odd look. So did Reed and Sue.

“Why’s everyone looking at me all funny?”

“I don’t think Johnny would want that,” Reed said mildly.

Ben looked around the table, at Sue’s amused face, at Johnny’s. His mouth dropped open. “Am I the last to know?!”

“We were supposed to tell everyone tonight!” Johnny said. “It’s not my fault he has the worst luck in the world.”

“ _I_ already knew,” Sue said.

“No, you didn’t.”

“Yes, I did. Technically, I knew before Peter did.”

“Not much of an achievement,” Johnny said grumpily. “Look, you guys will poke fun at me regardless of what I say, but can we pretend we haven’t had this conversation at breakfast tomorrow? It’s only fair that you make fun of Peter, too.”

Sue raised her eyebrows. “Johnny.”

“Come on. Don’t tell me you _don’t_ want to see Spider-Man suffer? Because he’s going to be _really_ annoying if he gets off the hook for this one.”

Ben snorted. “Sounds like you two have a healthy relationship.”

“Oh, it’s healthy. Athletic, even. Also, he’s super kinky. Who knew, right?”

Ben groaned.

“That would fall under too much information, Johnny,” Reed said.

Johnny smirked.

Sue sighed. “You’re going to make sure we regret knowing, aren’t you?”

“You’re family,” Johnny said expansively, holding out his arms as if he could stretch out like Reed and encompass them all. “That’s how it works.”

 

+///+

 

“Hey, babe. How was work today?”

Peter stalled in the middle of the doorway to his bedroom, surprised to see Johnny sitting in the middle of his bed. He glanced over his shoulder and quickly walked the rest of the way in, shutting and locking the door behind him.

“Johnny. What are you doing here?”

“What? It’s been three days since we had mind-blowing, really amazing sex and told my family about us and since then there’s been nothing but radio silence from you. I’m just here to make sure you’re not a figment of my imagination.”

“Uh, I feel I should point out you guys were actually out of radio range.”

“A message would be nice! So that the first thing I do when I come home wouldn’t have to be frantically checking every news channel to see if Spider-Man’s all right.”

“ _Or_ you could call.”

“You weren’t answering!”

Peter frowned and reached into his pocket. “ _Shit._ Not again.”

“What again?”

“I must have dropped my phone on a rooftop somewhere,” he said apologetically. “I built a spider-tracer into it. I can find it later.”

 _Spider-tracer_ , Johnny mouthed at him.

“Look, you put hot rod red and flames on all your stuff, I put ‘spider-’ in the names of all of mine. Don’t judge me.”

Johnny glared at him. “Three. Days. I was gone for three days and you lost your phone the moment I came back?”

“Two days and a half. And wow. Are we going to have _that_ kind of relationship?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, do I need to check in?” he asked, shrugging off his jacket and lobbing it without looking at the hamper across the room. It went in straight down the middle. He looked smug, and Johnny hated him a little.

“No. But given our line of work—yours, especially—a ‘hi, I’m not dead’ would be nice.”

“If Spider-Man died, you’d know because Jameson would put up billboards on every block,” Peter said, then winced. “Okay, that wasn’t funny.”

“No, it really wasn’t.” Johnny got up. “Anyway, let me tell you my real purpose in coming here.”

“What’s that?” Peter asked as Johnny approached him.

Johnny smiled and shoved him aside. Peter wasn’t actually expecting that, and Johnny grinned upon hearing Spider-Man’s offended squawk and seeing him skip backwards for balance. “I made a promise.”

“No. No, no, no—”

Johnny threw his closet open. “You jinxed us. Again.”

“But I didn’t even _say_ it!”

“You thought it. Apparently, that’s enough.”

“You’re not _really_ going to burn _all_ my clothes.”

“No, just the more hideous ones.”

“Johnny!”

Johnny pretended to think about it. “Well, I guess I can be persuaded.”

Peter blinked. “Any particular hints how I should go about persuading you?”

Johnny stepped over and let Peter pull him in, his strong hands on Johnny’s waist. “I don’t know. Surprise me?”

Peter leaned in and whispered, in his actual bedroom voice, “Pizza. Extra cheese. All the Godzilla movies with the giant robot thing.”

“Ooh, I’m hot all over. Oh, wait. I always am.”

Peter laughed. “I’ll make the call.”

Johnny sat back down on the edge of the bed, smiling to himself as Peter picked up Johnny’s phone and went to stand by the window and call their favorite pizza place.

He was still smiling like a fool when Peter came back.

“Something funny, Flamebrain?”

Johnny shook his head. “Just thinking.”

Peter reached under his bed and retrieved a particularly battered laptop. “About what?”

“How lucky you are. To have _me_ ,” Johnny joked, because he wanted to tell Peter that _Johnny_ was the lucky one, but he would only laugh and not believe it.

“I _am_ lucky, you know,” Peter said, entirely serious, making Johnny’s self-deprecating laugh die in his throat. He set his laptop on the bed and lay down on his stomach in front of it. “Now, come on. Help me queue them up, I can never get the order right.”

Johnny rolled his eyes but quickly climbed in next to him, shoulders bumping together. “Ugh. _No_ , the one with Mothra is one of the newer ones, how can you not know that?” He knocked Peter’s fingers aside and reached for the track pad. “What would you do without me?”

“I don’t know.  Watch less movies and swing out more?”

“So…be sad, then?”

Peter huffed but buried his face in Johnny’s shoulder in silent laughter. After a while, he stopped and flopped onto his back, cheeks flushed, and just watched Johnny.

“What?” Johnny asked, frowning at the movie playlist he’d made.

“Nothing. Just glad to have you back on earth,” Peter said, reaching up to cradle the back of his head. “Hey. Kiss me?”

“Ugh. So demanding,” Johnny said, but kissed him anyway.

Peter grinned up at him. Johnny loved him so much, he almost couldn’t stand to look at him. “So tell me about the trip. How was outer space? What was Jurassic Planet like?”

“Outer space is no fun if you’re supposed to be on your best behavior the entire time. Oh, and speaking of, the dinosaurs wanted to give you something.”

“Me? _Why?_ ”

Johnny reached inside his shirt and carefully pulled a pendant hanging off a chain up and over his head. He handed it over. “I guess it’s some sort of peace offering. Reed checked it and it’s perfectly normal and safe.”

Peter looked like he was about to have a heart attack. “Torch. This is a _ruby_.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s, like, half my fist _and_ a perfect teardrop shape. Are you kidding me? I can’t accept this. Give it back!”

Johnny frowned. “We just successfully negotiated peace. Do you really want to offend them again?” Johnny decided not to mention that Spider-Man’s rejection would set the dinosaurs on edge for fear of having offended _him_.

“I don’t want it!”

Johnny sighed and took it back. “I’ll put it in a safe at the Baxter Building for you, on the off-chance you’ll someday suffer a rare bout of sanity.”

“Thanks,” he said dryly.

Johnny turned over onto his back and raised the ruby to the light. “It’s too bad. We sell this, we could be set for life.”

“You’re already worth millions, Matchstick.”

“But so would _you_. People can finally stop calling you a gold-digger.”

“Literally _no one_ is calling me a gold-digger!”

Johnny waggled his eyebrows. “And I’ve always wanted a sugar daddy.”

“I hate you. Put that that thing away.”

“You sure?” Johnny asked, twirling the chain around one finger. “Because I was thinking I could put it back on and you can fuck me while I’m wearing it.”

Peter made a small noise in the back of his throat.

Johnny watched his face and bit his lower lip in his best approximation of sultry innocence, his index finger tracing the buttons on his shirt. “It would look good on me, I think. That shade of red against my skin. You can come all over it. You can come all over _me_ —”

Peter covered his mouth with one hand. “You can’t do this to me, Johnny. The pizza’s going to be here in ten minutes,” he hissed.

Johnny grinned. He threw off his shirt and pulled the necklace back on. “Ten minutes to get you off? Is that a challenge? Because I think I can do it in nine.”

“Oh, fucking _hell_ —” Peter began. Whatever else he'd been about to say was cut off when Johnny tackled him, his enthusiasm rolling them right off the bed and onto the floor.

As it turned out, Johnny only needed eight.

**Author's Note:**

> In truth, I debated really long and hard before posting "the things that you want" as to whether I should put it in Like Gravity or not as I intended to make it a one-shot. Which it isn't anymore, so I may as well go with the initial plan. It will make sense someday.


End file.
